


The Confrontation

by Tyvani (ElementCrystal)



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Angst, Gen, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 15:17:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5380013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElementCrystal/pseuds/Tyvani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short story touching on the events of the year leading up to when Syndra snapped and what happened when she killed her mentor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Confrontation

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on my recently started tumblr RP blog for the featured character, URL "willofthetranscendent". If you have any doubts that this work is my own, please send any messages to the blog and I will relieve your worries. Also, if it's not obvious, this work ignores the canon lore. I've always had a problem with the flow and the lack of notable buildup that would justify Syndra's reaction, so I'm putting my own spin on it.

“My powers feel like they are stagnating,” Syndra said aloud once, idly.

“That's because you are not developing yourself spiritually,” her teacher had replied. “That is why we are going to meditate again.”

The girl almost opened her mouth to complain, but thought against it. Instead, she pressed her lips together, glared at the back of her mentor’s head, and followed him to the garden. They meditated for hours, or that's what Syndra let him think. Her mind was wandering the whole time, senses pulling at the magic in the air. It felt tight, tense, and hard to draw from. It only frustrated her.

After her free hour another day, Syndra found him in his room, sitting at his desk and writing a letter. It was in the fall, just around the time of harvest. “There's supposed to be a festival in the village soon. I was hoping we could go again. It’s been awhile since we’ve gone.”

The old man glanced up before looking at the letter again, frowning with disapproval. The answer was obvious before he even spoke. “The festival is not where you will find your power, Syndra. We have too much to work on to care about such silly things.”

She sighed somewhat sharply. “Fine.” she muttered and walked away.

Before she could get far, he added, “I expect you in the garden when I'm done answering this letter.”

The girl paused, turned her head slightly. He couldn't see the angry look on her face. But she quickly continued, heading out to the garden as instructed and cutting the pillars of the gazebo with her mind. She swiped with her hand, slowly carving deeper into the columns. It took far too long, but it was satisfying for him to walk out in time to see the structure collapse on itself.

They didn't speak for the next few days. He would never punish her, not when he was supposed to be enlightened enough to bring her to the same spiritual level.

It was over breakfast later on when she had a realization. She dropped her hand to the table and sat upright to look at him, glaring. “I never had to meditate as a child! My power always grew!”

“Well, you're no child anymore, Syndra,” he said irritably. “Things change. Perhaps you're putting a limit on yourself as you find a lack of fulfillment in life.”

Her hand slammed down on the table. “Lack of fulfillment?” she shouted, her face contorting indignantly. “You're the one who's kept me locked away here! How can anyone find fulfillment in a prison?”

“By looking _inside_ themselves,” he retorted sharply. “Which you _refuse_ to do.”

“My power does not lurk behind some… some _wall_ inside my mind! There was never _anything_ holding me back!”

“What happened to you, Syndra?” He asked bitterly. “You were so eager to learn when you came here.”

“What happened?” The girl scoffed. “ _You_ happened! When's the last time you taught me _anything?_ ”

“When is the last time you were willing to accept my guidance?”

Syndra threw her hands into the air with a shout before standing up, spinning on her heel, and storming away. “I've had enough of this!”

The old man didn't follow her. Once again, there wasn’t a word spoken between them for days. He simply let her calm down on her own. Everything in their usual schedule was done whether she was there or not. Eventually, her boredom grew stronger than her anger and she joined him again. Every day that passed, however, marked her growing frustrations.

Weeks later, she witnessed a plume of smoke in the distance and ran to get her teacher to bring him out and see it.

“I told you!” she cried. “They need help!”

“They're fine. Whatever problems they have, they can handle on their own.”

“That doesn't look like something they can control! Can we at least go and see if they need help?”

“No. We are not to leave this temple. And there will be no more objections.”

Her teacher walked away, as if he didn't care. He returned to whatever duties he had for the day inside the temple and left Syndra alone. She climbed the tallest tree in the garden and sat amongst its branches, watching the smoke for hours. It was thick and black and gradually faded away. The girl had never seen anything like it, but she knew that the village was devastated by whatever had happened. By the end of the night, however, she could feel a tension in the magic surrounding the temple and knew her teacher had done something. She didn’t bother asking at first. Syndra was sure he would deflect the question and attempt to reassure her nothing was wrong. But as time went on, their letters came fewer and farther between. Messengers took longer to reach the temple, and supplies even longer.

“I thought I was mad walking up this mountain!” the convoy guard said when they stepped through the gates. “Madder for even walking through this territory, but your whole temple was gone!”

“That’s good,” her teacher said. “That’s exactly what I wanted. Syndra, if you don’t mind.” He waved a hand towards the boxes before attempting to continue chatting with their guests.

The task had been too difficult to perform. It was still relatively easy, but the boxes were harder to move and harder to control. She set them off to the side, not bothering to strain herself further by moving them elsewhere.

“Why is walking through this territory so mad, anyways?” Syndra asked, not caring to interrupt.

Her question befuddled the men, who had to take a moment to readjust their conversation. “Because of the Noxians that came through here! You didn’t see them?”

“Noxians?” The girl turned and looked at her mentor, eyes narrowed. “No. I didn’t see them,” she said, then looked back at the man. “But I saw a plume of smoke. What happened to the village nearby?”

“It’s… well…” They had a hard time answering. It was immediately a bad sign. One of the other men spoke up, though. “I met one of the families who fled before the army marched through. Said it was just them and a few others. Everyone else stayed behind. But the village is gone. They killed everyone, burned the whole place, and it looks like they just marched right on.”

Fury burned inside her. She immediately turned to her mentor. “We can’t help, _right?_ ” Syndra spat bitterly, right in front of the convoy. “They can handle it on their own?”

“I am not sending you out to fight an army, Syndra! Neither of us can face against something like that!”

“We couldn’t even get help, then?” She was shouting now, her voice projecting. “You just want to sit here and hide and pretend nothing’s wrong?”

“Ionia has its own armies! We are not involved!”

She wanted to throw something, destroy something, but she stormed away instead. The convoy soon left without the usual offer of tea and the old man set about putting the supplies away by himself.

The months that followed only grew more heated. Arguments broke out every other day and even the peaceful moments were strained. Syndra just bit it back, though, and tried to force her magic to bend to her will. With every passing day, it became more obvious that she was hitting a wall, one that had never been there before. Her teacher had already placed an enchantment on the temple without telling her, and suspicion led her to believe something similar.

The opportunity to find out came sooner than she thought. Strong winds blew across the temple one day, beating against the windows and doors and making the bells and chimes ring loudly. Following one gust in particular, there was a loud crash in the garden that startled Syndra. She walked out to the patio to see what happened and found the source: the gazebo they had attempted to fix lay in ruin again, with pieces scattered all over the garden. When she looked around, she saw the old man on the other end of the patio.

“That wasn’t you?” he called.

“No!” she projected back.

He turned to look at the rubble again for a moment before shaking his head and returning inside. Syndra followed him, finding him in the hallway wiping his hands tiredly over his face. Once his hands fell away, he noticed her and called out again, “I think I'll make some tea! Do you want some?”

“Sure,” she projected quieter down the hall. But she didn't follow him. Instead, she walked the other way, going the long way to find his room. Syndra quickly stepped inside and pushed the papers on his desk around, glancing over them. Answers to letters from friends, supply requests, and other uninteresting things. She opened the drawers and pulled things out, searching for anything of note. One drawer was locked, and Syndra tugged on it to no effect. With her will, she ripped it from the desk and nearly let it crash to the floor. Inside it, however, she found a paperweight holding a stack of letters down. The girl pulled them out and quickly looked them over. Her name was on all of them. Also amongst them were mentions of her powers, her growth, her spiritual growth…

Her expression darkened.

Recklessness, disinterest, instability, arrogance, disobedience. The words stood out, bearing more emphasis in the subjects of the letters.

Syndra pushed the other papers out of the way to spread the letters out. They were signed by names she recognized, all of them Ionian Elders. They ranged from simple discussions about her to solutions on how to deal with her should she be a “problem.” One mentioned the wisdom her mentor had for his efforts to partially bind her powers.

“ _Bind_ my-”

“Syndra?” his voice called from downstairs.

She froze. Her eyes slowly rolled up, looking at the door.

“The tea is ready!”

Letter in hand, she left the room and found her way to the stairs.

“Syndra!” he called again.

The old man was close, and Syndra found him in the foyer at the bottom of the stairs. She was glaring at him by the time her feet touched down on the first floor again.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

She slowly shook her head, her face reflecting her disgust.

And his showed his confusion.

She took a deep, angry breath. “You promised to be my teacher, but now I _know_ you’re nothing like that. This whole time I was nothing but your prisoner, wasn’t I?” Syndra lifted the letter in her hand, eyes scrolling over one of the lines. “‘I’m pleased to hear you had the perception to partially bind the girl’s powers, as it seems she is only getting out of hand?’”

The man glared back. “Let me explain, Syndra-”

“Explain _what?_ ” She snapped, her voice projecting loudly. “That I was too dependent on magic for my own good?”

“Don’t talk to me that way. I will not tolerate you acting like this.”

“ _Tolerate_ me?”

“Syndra-”

“I can’t _believe_ you,” she hissed. Her fist closed tightly around the paper in her hand, crumpling it up. “You and the Elders both! This was all just part of your plan, right? Just to contain me? Keep me away from the others? Take me from my _family?_ ”

“Listen to me right now. You were being careless- _reckless_ with your powers! The idea was to teach you control and bal-”

“I didn’t _want_ to learn that! I never had _any_ problems controlling my power!”

“Clearly you _did_ have problems controlling it!” he snapped.

“Clearly you’re a fool!”

“Enough!”

“Yes! Enough!” Syndra threw her hands out with her words. “I’ve had _enough_ of this place and I’ve had _enough_ of your meditations!”

He howled with anger. “I don’t care what you think!”

“You _will_ care!”

“No, _you_ will care or I’ll strip you of your powers and never let you leave again!”

Her eyes went wide. Then she glared again, anger surging through her. Syndra dropped the letter and threw her hands forward. “No you won’t!” She yelled as she threw the old man against the wall.

There was a loud crack, and the old man fell limply from where he’d hit the wall. A glimpse of blood was left behind where his head had hit. Syndra’s anger subsided, and she stood straighter. She stepped forward, looking down at the old man. He didn’t look back, just stared, wide-eyed, at something beyond her. One breath escaped him, and another, and then he sighed, the breath rasping out of him.

He was dead. Worse yet, she didn’t care.

The matter was soon eclipsed as a rush of energy started flowing through her. Syndra gasped and tried to breathe deep. A smile breezed across her face until she was grinning. A laugh pushed from her lips, growing with each moment. She looked at her hands, feeling the intensity of the magic in her and around her. She looked down, focusing on her feet. They lifted off the ground. Easily. So _easily_. Her smile didn’t subside as looked at the old man, shaking her head as she waved her hand out and lifted the man’s body from the ground. With the body in tow, she moved outside and tossed it clear over the temple walls. Wind whipped at her hair and her robes, but she ignored it. Instead, Syndra lifted herself high enough to see the crumpled mess of his body beyond the wall.

“You _foolish_ old man,” she said, still projecting her voice. “ _This_ is what I’ve been missing this whole time!”

Then she turned back to look at the temple, inclining her head at the three buildings around her. The girl turned and looked at the ground beneath it, narrowing her eyes as she considered what she wanted to do. Then she took a slow, deep breath, clawed her hand and, while focusing on the earth around and beneath the temple walls, swept her hand around. A loud crack and a rumble resounded where her mind moved. Syndra cut deep into the earth and compacted what she separated beneath the temple before starting to lift the entirety of it up. Trinkets rattled, temple bells collided with each other in even louder tones, and the water of the pond rippled dangerously as the mass rose into the air. Her breaths came fast and deep as the magic poured through her, but she smiled. Oh, she couldn't stop smiling. The temple rose higher and higher, so slow in its ascent and yet so glorious. It took some time before Syndra found a way to settle it, but, when she did, the action became barely even a thought.

The girl paused, holding the temple in place. While it still hovered over the crater, Syndra floated inside, finding her mentor’s room and taking a blank sheet of paper and a pen. It took her a moment to think of what to say, but she quickly wrote her message.

“They wanted me to be enlightened,” Syndra said darkly as she wrote. “And they failed.”

At the bottom, she signed her name, and inclined her head for a moment before adding something else. A title.

The girl folded the paper and returned outside the temple, lowering herself to where her mentor’s body lay. Waving her hand, she rolled him into his back. His eyes were open, lips barely parted. He was shocked. It was never expected that she would've killed him, certainly not like this. And even Syndra hadn't anticipated it. But, piece by piece, her life had been taken from her. Years upon years of isolation with this one man, no matter how good he tried to be, was nothing but a burden, and his last words had been the final straw. He had been nothing but a liar, hiding behind a mask and waiting for Syndra to fall irredeemably further from Ionia’s ideals. Syndra was glad she had this satisfaction, however. And so she lifted the collar of his robes and slid the paper inside, laying his hand over his breast to cover it. There was no way of knowing whether the letter would actually survive until their next guest found it. It could rain for days if the sky wanted to, but Syndra didn't really care. They would figure it out well enough even without the letter.

She turned her head up, looking to the sun moving past its peak. Then the woman turned her back on the old man and lifted herself back to the fortress, _her_ fortress. She breathed deep, smiled, and pushed the fortress into motion, moving low over the mountain and the valley.

Ideas churned in her mind, plans for what she would do. She shook her head and laughed again. Laughed at the futility of their precautions and the foolishness of their choices. They had tried so hard to control her, and yet here she was, as free as the clouds in the sky. Free to go where she pleased and free to dictate her life. Nobody would ever contain her again.

She was Sovereign.


End file.
